FOR SEVERAL somber hours last Tuesday, the national obsession seemed less of a sideshow and more of what it was supposed to be all along.

The grisly photographs of Nicole Brown Simpson briefly reminded the nation what the case was really about: a brutal double homicide. But it did not take long to get back to the national pastime of using the Simpson trial as a stand-in for Big Issues.

This case has been used as a platform to launch discussions of domestic violence, Hollywood, celebrity and the criminal justice system. Least convincingly, it has been used as a microscope under which to study the state of race relations in this country.

This sordid tale may or may not enlighten us about the typical case of domestic violence. While there is little doubt that Nicole Simpson was a battered wife, she had been divorced from Simpson since 1992. Domestic violence experts say battered women are in the greatest danger from the men they have loved at the time when they are leaving. Yet, attempts were made to reconcile the marriage after the divorce, but they proved unsuccessful.

This trial does not reveal much about the routine criminal case, either. For example, have you ever heard of a case in which put-upon, sequestered jurors are resentful of being kicked off the case?

If this trial were routine, there would be fewer juror departures. But any juror lucky enough to be returned to home and family would surely write Judge Lance Ito thank-you notes instead of showering him with blistering criticism, as several have done.

This case has garnered unprecedented media attention simply because it IS unusual. It is rare, indeed, that a wealthy and popular celebrity is accused of the savage murders of two people, one of them the mother of two of his children.

It now appears that some jurors may have had a perverse attraction to the case, a desire to sit

in judgment on the so-called trial of the century and perhaps to write a book about it.

While this case is fascinating, it should not be mistaken for a civics lesson. It doesn't reveal much about our criminal justice system. Nor does it provide much enlightenment about our most enduring national obsession -- race. In fact, our clumsy efforts to explore race through this trial have only led to more misunderstanding.

The sturdiest stereotype surrounding the trial is the notion that black jurors will not convict a black man of murder. This is based on nothing but the rawest conjecture.

Allow me to introduce one bit of anecdotal evidence: In 1982, a jury of eight blacks and four whites in Atlanta took 11 hours to convict a young black man named Wayne Williams of killing two other young black men. Because their murders fit a pattern of serial killings that took the lives of 30 black men and boys, the police were able to close 23 cases with Williams' conviction.

Those who are convinced the Simpson jurors will view every bit of evidence through the prism of race draw sustenance from polls that show a majority of African Americans believe Simpson is innocent, while a majority of whites think he is guilty. Polls tell us nothing about the thoughts of those on the jury, however.

I think our civic life would be far better off if we stopped believing polls -- especially on a subject as complex as race. The Simpson trial is an unseemly spectacle, complicated by race, certainly, but also by other things-- celebrity most of all. There are few larger lessons in it.